


i walk through my door just so i don't fall through the floor

by emeraldcitydowntowngirl



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Bad Poetry, M/M, Vignette, church scenes, i love josh's blue hair and will never shut up about it, jenna and hayley for the win, or excuses for me to practice writing poems, sometimes tyler thinks in poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcitydowntowngirl/pseuds/emeraldcitydowntowngirl
Summary: Tyler thinks in poetry. Josh is a barista with blue hair. There's just something so damn poetic about colored hair and strong coffee.(OR: little vignettes that probably don't make sense, but were fun to write)





	

**Author's Note:**

> edited by one of my bffls alyssa ScytheMeister7 - if ur into markiplier and the other guy with green hair, you should def check out her septiplier fics! or, as i like to call them, marksepticeye.

The first time I saw you, I saw blue.

It’s cold and my fingertips burn as I try to shake off the feeling.

Your voice sounds like _tired._ Coffee breath and dark circles

underneath your eyes that I want to run my fingers over.

Your hair is a silverish blue.

It’s dull in an electrifying way, like fairy lights in the distance,

in the woods, in the dark, in the cold.

You’re all tight tee-shirts and sweatpants and tired eyes and

colorful tattoos, sunsets and forests, and I’m all

soulless darkness and red beanies and socks, red like blood,

rusty and dirty like leftover ketchup in the sink.

Or maybe I’m just being fake-deep.

 

“Tired, or are you just thinking in poetry?” Jenna asks, and Tyler blinks out of his thoughts. He’s back in the coffeeshop, standing next to Jenna in her yellow pea-coat and her converse sneakers. She follows his gaze and grins, all-knowing.

“Oh,” she says with feeling, and Tyler grumbles. ‘Shut up.”

It’s 5 in the morning, too dark to be dawn, too early to be awake, so she drops it. She’s the crazy best friend, just after noon. And most of their ‘mischievous’ plans don’t go past sneaking extra wine at church and doing cartwheels down the aisle. But that’s the way Tyler likes it—calm, calm, calm.

She orders their drinks, Blue Hair With The Apron And The Nametag That Says ‘Josh’ smiles at them, Tyler and his anxiety stay quiet.

They leave with piping hot coffee and a chocolate chip muffin each. The sun is barely rising, Jenna drives them to church, and he’s tired. But on the side of his coffee cup, dark roast with some milk and sugar, but not too much sugar, is his name, a smiley face, and a little ‘Hi’ in blocky handwriting.

And that should be it. But it’s not. Tyler throws out the coffee cup before he walks through the doors, but he runs his thumb over his name. The pen clearly is dry by now but he still glances at his thumb, to see if anything is there.

* * *

Church is always an event in and of itself. There’s more than meets the eye than singing gospel songs, and praying, and drinking the blood and body of Jesus Christ. There’s the _before,_ there’s the preparation, Tyler and Jenna have the lights and the candles and printing out the pamphlets and fixing the microphones, Zack and Maddy have vacuuming and sweeping and making sure that the mice traps are mice-free. Jay, who sits in the pews and plays on his Nintendo DS, bosses everyone around, and when he’s not looking, Zack pretends to throw the brush-and-pan at him.

There’s Tyler sitting at the piano bench, skimming over lines and lines and key changes and cadences, plagal. They’re playing some dc Talk though Maddy wishes they would play something _better,_ like maybe Demi Lovato circa 2008, but no one listens to her, even when Jenna backs her up half-heartedly with a, ‘yeah, Demi’s stuff was so good back then!’

There’s the _after_ when they have to clean up. Stomachs full of bagels and coffee (again (and apple juice for Jay—he’s only 11 afterall)), they turn the radio on because sometimes _others_ help out—they’re like a church clique- the Joseph siblings and Jenna—and _others_ think dc Talk is a little ‘out there’. They wipe down surfaces, make small talk, their fingers itch to leave and go out to Taco Bell. They pack into Tyler’s car, play dc Talk again, Maddy puts on her mediocre music. Zack gets out of the car and decides to walk by himself because he’s an angsty teenager who doesn’t _want_ to listen to Maddy’s shitty music, Jay follows Zack, and then there were 3.

But now, there’s the _during._

Tyler tries to control his breathing, tries not to laugh like Zack and Maddy and Jay are, pretending to cough as their pastor sings off-key and… just, horribly. Jenna looks like she wants to take over, Tyler’s parents scold their children with glares and pointed fingers and the congregation watch on with grimaces on their faces, trying to look reassuring. Tyler’s not sure what’s worse: sounding horrible and knowing it, or sounding horrible and not knowing it. All he knows is that he’s certainly not going to be the one to say anything– it’d be 20 years too late anyways.

Church is always a safe haven. Even when Tyler thinks that God despises him, hates him for being gay, hates him for this, hates him for that. Even when people gossip about him, about his family, about the boy who used to come with Tyler, the boy who doesn’t come anymore. Church is Jenna. Church is his annoying little sister, his annoying little brother, his annoying other little brother. Church is music, finally taking the first bite of food on Thanksgiving evening after everyone goes around the table and says what they’re thankful for; Tyler, for Church, and Jenna, and his annoying little siblings, and dc Talk, and hot coffee from Dyed Happy.

* * *

“Um,” he hears a voice say, one sweet like honey and laced with sleepiness, and when he looks up from typing on his old, ugly, dull laptop, he's greeted with soft brown eyes, and Blue Haired Josh.

“Hi.” Josh, with the apron and the tattoos and the sweet voice says, and Tyler replies back, muddy, like they’re stuck in slow-mo, “...hi…”

He wonders if he’s been here too long, if he's not allowed to plug his laptop in, even though the girl over there is doing it too. His drink is cold, but he feels obligated to drink it just because Josh made it. It’s almost full to the brim, but the chocolate chip muffin that came with it is long gone.

“This is a weird question. Well, weird’s subjective, but… and you know, it's not that weird, just, I noticed that you didn't drink your coffee, and well… do you want another one? No charge or anything, you just looked busy and me and my friends–” He turns around, Tyler follow his gaze, and two people, a girl with blue hair too, and a guy with his hair gelled up quickly drop behind the counter. A girl with red hair, who’s working the cash register, rolls her eyes, and she gives Josh and Tyler a sheepish wave. “–felt bad.”

“Oh,” Tyler says, shaking his head no, even though he secretly wants it. ‘ _It’s just manners,_ his mother would say, ‘ _they usually don't want you to take what they’re offering, they’re just being nice.'_ "That’s nice, but I’m okay. Thanks.”

But Blue Haired Josh doesn't move. He just bats his eyelashes and says, in a gooey voice, one that sounds like what homemade cookies tastes like, “Come on, please? Are you _sure_?”, and he's teasing, but he’s _flirting._ Tyler’s mouth suddenly feels very dry, and the first thought in his head is:

 

I wish I was someone else.

Someone without crooked teeth,

without a crooked mind.

I wish I were like you.

I wish I were someone you would like.

But I’m me.

With scars and dead eyes and shaking hands.

And you’re you.

Just like that.

 

...and that he really wants that coffee. He gives Josh a half smile, and he hands him the cold mug. “Maybe some hot water to warm it up. But that’s it.”

Josh takes the mug. Tyler swears he hears cheering coming from behind the counters, but that might be the static in his ears. Josh gives him a half smile too, and he says “I’ll be back.”

And then he's gone, just like that. Tyler take out his phone, and he immediately texts Jenna.

_“Hey, I think this guy from dyed happy was flirting . This is weird”_

**_“Blue hair?”_ **

_“Yeah why ?”_

_“ **I**_ **_totally called it people dont put smiley faces on coffees and hi unless theyre into you! Give him ur number!!!”_ **

_“Should I ? Lol ..”_

_“_ **_Yes!!!!”_ **

 

You make me feel like asking my parents for concert tickets.

You make me feel like reading my poems out loud.

You make me feel like waiting in line to see a movie.

You make me feel like popcorn that hasn't been popped yet.

Seats waiting to be filled,

floors waiting to consume soda and M&Ms and the dirt on my shoes.

You make me feel like walking out and being greeted by the warm, bright sun.

How’d that happen, you wonder,

even though it's one in the afternoon,

even though you know it's not going to be dark at one in the afternoon.

 

You make me feel like one in the afternoon.

Not morning, barely afternoon, not night.

Just in the middle of the day.

Just in the middle, waiting for something to happen.

 

“Here,” Josh says to him, and Tyler looks up from staring into nothing. _Nothing_ is usually somewhere with a pen and paper, for the amount of poetry Tyler has thought of, he never writes it down, but he has it all in his head, like a little storage unit with a ratty old couch inside of it, and packed wall to wall with words, to glance up at Josh, with a steaming drink in his hands.

He sets the drink down, and Tyler knows it’s new— _knows_. There’s always a difference between fresh coffee and coffee that has been warmed up, like a little bit of magic is gone. Warmed up coffee is dull, and fresh coffee is… well, _fresh_ , for a lack of a better term. Tyler opens his mouth to say something but Josh shakes his head, “Don’t. It really wasn’t a big deal, we have to—ah, nevermind. Anyways,” he says, before he gives him a final smile, “good luck on whatever you’re working on.”

Screw the laptop, screw the homework that Tyler has to do. “Wait! Um, so, when do you get off for your break?”

* * *

He gets Blue Haired Josh’s number, leaves the cafe an hour later than he intended to, full with hot coffee and some of these cookies that Josh’s best friend ‘Ash’ makes. Tyler is 100% a chocolate chip muffin kind of guy—mostly a chocolate chip muffin _top_ kind of guy—but Josh is opening new horizons to Tyler. Cookies… who would have guessed?

He gets Josh’s number, it’s saved in his phone as ‘joshua’, and suddenly Joshua is the most beautiful name Tyler’s ever heard in his life. He’s still Blue Haired Josh to Tyler, though.

* * *

 

Time slips through my hands, through my fingers, like sand.

Except it’s the mean kind of sand.

The sand that isn’t warm and soft under your feet.

The sand that isn’t in the castles.

It’s the sand in the car that you find months after you’ve been to the beach.

It’s cold now, it’s the middle of winter, it brings you back,

you wish it were summer again.

It’s the sand in your eyes, in your mouth, in your hair.

It’s the sand in the crevices on your knees, your back, between your toes.

This is the sand that falls from the hourglass.

It’s taunting you, it’s telling you that you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.

And as it slowly slides out of my hands, slides to the bottom of the hourglass, I realize

it was right.

 

* * *

A piano feels like home. A piano feels like Jenna messing up and cursing under her breath on a Sunday afternoon after church in his living room, when the air is still and they’re half-drunk on sour wine.

“I don’t get it.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, her yellow dress. Jenna’s the sun to Tyler—his best fucking friend in the world. She’s the sunflowers and the baby ducks in the bathtub.

“Obviously I have to practice, but I don’t want to practice if I have to practice the boring stuff, you know?” She sighs, her shoulders slump, her fingers over the keys flatten, and she slides them off. “How on God’s green Earth did you do it?”

A piano feels like childhood, like high school. Nights when his parents weren’t home, and Tyler would play until his fingers ached, he’d sing and scream and his throat would become hoarse, and his siblings would have to call their parents to get him to stop.

He sighs, as he begins to play something soft. “I don’t know. I was little. Any song sounded interesting enough if I were playing it, you know?”

Jenna rolls her eyes playfully, and she pries his fingers off the keys right before he can really get into it. “Okay, boy-genius, we get it. I have to talk to you about something.”

Before he can really get worried, like maybe he did something out of the ordinary, she says, quickly in the way that Jenna always talks, “I need you to call Josh. Because I know you didn’t. You would’ve told me if you did already, and it’s been a week, and I think that–”

“How do you know I haven’t called him back?” He asks, sheepishly, but he tries to hide that with some faux confidence. She calls his bluff like she always does. Things with Jenna are reliable, predictable. “Because I know you, you idiot. And I know that… that you… Just call him back, okay? He likes you. You like him. You can get us free coffee in the mornings. It’s simple.”

But things with Josh aren’t simple. Josh is… _Josh_. Tyler’s full of shit metaphors and bursting at the seams with mediocre prose, but he can’t find a damn word to describe Josh.

* * *

He runs into him at the gym. Pun not intended.

Sweat clings to his chest as he runs on the treadmill. If he closes his eyes, he can see from the corner of his barely-there vision a red glowing demon coming after him. It’s sharp teeth and words like ‘follow me instead’, and Tyler run, run, runs away, but he can feel himself tripping, and–

And then his eyes suddenly snap open, sweat drips between his eyebrows, the sweet bubblegum pop echoes in his ears.

He stops the treadmill and he grabs his water bottle, and he looks up, and Josh is staring right at him. They blink at each other, and Tyler feels like running away, but he doesn’t want to run away anymore. He’s tired, he’s so _tired_. He wants to collapse in Josh’s arms, start everything over, pretend like he actually called Josh back instead of leaving him hanging over 2 weeks straight.

“Uh… hi.” Tyler says, his chest moves up and down rapidly, he’s not sure if it’s because he’s staring into brown eyes, or because he’s out of breath, but either way, it’s distracting. Josh looks kind of pissed, but he says, “hi,” back anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I meant to.” Tyler blurts out, and before he can stop himself, words come out of his mouth from where they’ve been stored in his lungs. “I just, I just didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m boring and stupid, and you could do so much better, and you don’t have to forgive me, I just want you to know, you know, and every time I picked up the phone, I thought you were.... I don’t know. Anyways, you can take this machine, I was heading home.”

Subject changes are Tyler’s forte. That, and self deprecation. And sometimes playing the piano.

“It’s okay.” Josh says, before he gives him a smile that reminds Tyler of like… rainbows after a huge storm. “I mean, do you wanna– I mean, I don’t really wanna be here, and– Do you want to go out? Like… now?”

 

Bubblegum pop in my ears.

Sweat on my shirt.

Jenna playing racquetball with herself a floor down.

You, your Blue Hair, your eyes on mine.

“Yeah,” I say, and my legs ache.

But a good kind of ache.

Standing room concert kind of ache.

I want to sit down, and go home.

Then the lights dim, cheers begin to roar in my ears, the band comes on stage,

they open with a song, a word, that makes the ache go away better than any

kiss on a bandaid from a loving mother ever could.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

There’s not much to do when it’s cold outside. Tyler can’t ice-skate, he says to Josh, and when Josh says he’ll teach him one day, Tyler’s insides twist and shout at the idea of _one day._ Josh doesn’t like being indoors. “It’s just so _boring,”_ he says to Tyler, and Tyler’s insides twist and shout because Tyler loves the indoors. Loves calm. Loves the comfort of his parent’s home, loves the piano, loves sleeping. He guesses that’s why everyone called him a loser in high school.

They toss ideas back and forth, “Well, maybe not a coffeeshop, cause…”

“Oh, true. I like your coffee the most, though. Not just saying that because… y’know, you make it.”

“Dude, I wasn’t even thinking that, now you have me worried.”

“Sorry! Uh, what about… this is hard.”

“September” by Earth, Wind & Fire plays on the radio, and Josh taps his fingers against the wheels as Tyler moves his shoulders to the beat, goofily so that he doesn’t look like an idiot. They pause their discussion about where to go, to sing the chorus together, it starts off soft and sheepish, but they burst into giggles— _giggles—_ after the first chorus when they realize that they got super into it

So, that’s what they do instead. They listen to songs on the radio, switch the station when the songs suck, and when the songs _particularly_ suck, Josh plugs in his AUX cord.

“God, Grouplove is so good,” He says, after the 5th song in a row. They’re in an empty school parking lot, they put the seats back and lounge in them as they listen to the music. They look into each other’s eyes, “ _You’re such a big mess and I love youuuu”,_ in the background, the heat from the car clouds the windows, Tyler’s sleepy in a way that he won’t fall asleep, but he can feel it when he laughs, when he smiles, when he tells Josh, his voice loose and pliant, “The songs on the radio are okay, but my taste in music is your face.”

Josh laughs, and buries his face in the leather seats.

* * *

 

One of the worst things in the world,

worse than forgetting the one thing you needed from the grocery store,

worse than not remembering Mom’s birthday,

worse than not having a tissue with you when you need it most,

worse than forgetting a word that you need _right_ this second, wait, hold on,

Is not remembering where you know someone from.

Redish orange hair tied into pigtails,

it reminds me of a flames from a forest fire, the bottle my pills are in,

of the paint we use on Christmas banners, bright, bright, bright, and yet...

It doesn’t remind me of _you_.

 

She’s hunched over a notebook, they’re in the library, Tyler wants to scream, because he knows her, knows her face, knows her hair, and she’s studying, she runs her hands through her hair, she throws her pencil down, she takes a sip of- _oh_.

The girl at the cash register at Dyed Happy who waved at them- one of Josh’s friends. She must have noticed his gaze, or something, because she looks up at the same time Tyler does. She gives him an odd look, like she's trying to place him too, and then she suddenly breaks out into a grin. She waves to him and Tyler hesitantly waves back before he looks back down at his books.

There’s some rustling, a chair gets pushed in, a chair gets pushed out, and Tyler catches a whiff of coffee as he hears someone plop down into the chair across from him. Lo and behold, it's her, with her coffee and her textbooks. She leans across the table, and she says in a hushed whisper, “Hi. Tyler, right?”

Tyler really doesn't want to be here; not that he dislikes her, he doesn't even _know_ her, it's just that… he’s doing work, and he likes quiet. But Tyler is a lot of things, tired and aching mostly, but he's not rude. So, he nods and says in a whisper similar to hers, “Yeah.”

There’s a stillness. She brushes some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m Hayley. Um, one of the… y’know,” she trails off, waiting to see if Tyler will finish it, if Tyler remembers her too, and Tyler nods again, pointing to her coffee cup with his pencil. “Yeah, I remember.”

Another stillness. They blink at each other. It’s so weird– Hayley knows so much about Josh, Josh said that they’ve been friends since the 8th grade, and yet, to Tyler, Josh is still somewhat of a blank slate.

Tyler’s across from one of Josh’s best friends and all he wants to do is go home.

“So… I’m having a party this Saturday. You should come. Josh’ll be there.” She says to him, going with common ground.

“Wait, you want me to come? I mean–”

“Yeah! I mean Josh… well, Josh is really into you. And if Josh likes you, then we will too! You should bring your friend too... um, she always get hazelnut coffee with extra hazel syrup, she has blonde–”

“Jen?” Tyler asks, and Hayley nods quickly, looking more excited than Tyler probably has been in his entire life. “Yes!” She exclaims, and she winces when one of the librarians tells them to quiet down, or leave.

“Yeah, sorry Mary.” Hayley says, giving the librarian an apologetic smile. The librarian just scowls back, and grumbles under her breath as she walks away.

“We’re usually the first people kicked out. We’re a loud group, y’know. We’re just excited people.” Hayley explains to him, and Tyler gives her a grim smile back.

In less than 15 minutes, Tyler and Hayley find themselves on the street outside of the library, clinging to their jackets and textbooks, and giving each other sheepish looks.

* * *

“So… are you busy on Saturday?” Tyler asks, turning to look at Jenna. They’re sitting at the dinner table, with Tyler’s and Jenna’s family (it’s a big table, they had to add 2 extra leaves). No one is really paying attention to them, though; they’re all absorbed in their own conversations.

Jenna takes a bite of potato salad. “Dunno. Why?”

Tyler plays with the string beans on his plate, moving them around with his fork the same way he wishes he could move around this subject. He just, he just knows Jenna, and knows she won't be down for _Just a couple of drinks… Okay, a_ lot _of drinks. Maybe bring a change of clothes? Things get a little crazy when Brendon gets hammered, uh.. but that's it._

“Well… one of Josh’s friends–” He begins, but he’s quickly interrupted.

“Josh?” She asks excitedly, with a certain gleam in her eyes that makes Tyler blush.

“Yes, Josh.” Tyler replies, and he can't help but hide his head in his hands, hide how big his smile is. He feels like a… not _love_ sick idiot, but a _like_ sick idiot. He thinks about being curled up in Josh’s passenger seat and Anderson .Paak surrounding them like a heated blanket. “Ugh, I feel so stupid. This is so stupid.” He adds, lifting his head out of his hands, and looking at Jenna’s million watt smile. “No! It’s _cuuuute._ You deserve to be happy, you know.”

Well, that's sobering.

“I guess so.” He says, and Jenna gives him a look, and he gives her one back. Not a subject for the dinner table, that kind of thing. It’s a subject for 3 in the morning on the phone while Tyler’s sitting out on the roof freezing down to his bones, his teeth chattering so hard that Jenna’s the only one talking, but that’s not now. Now is warm, and gentle- it doesn't deserve to be broken by Tyler’s own brokenness.

He takes another moment, and then he jumps back into it, “Anyway, Josh’s friend invited us to her party. On Saturday night?”

“Us? Like me and you?” Jenna asks, with a raised eyebrow. “But she doesn't even _know_ me.”

“She said something, I dunno, about how my friends are their friends because I’m their friend because Josh is their friend. I don't know. But… Saturday night? Yes?” He asks, giving her his best ‘puppy eyes’- a pout. “I’ll buy coffee for the next month.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, but she smiles at him in a way that tells Tyler that he won- he grins, as she says, “Fine, I’ll come. Even though I know that you’re getting your coffee paid for by your _booooyfriend_ now. And hey, stop playing with your food.”

* * *

Contrary to Jenna’s beliefs, Josh and Tyler aren’t _dating_ . They went out on a date. One. One little date that wasn’t even a date because they just hung out and listened to music and they didn’t even talk as much as they stared into each other’s eyes. It was romantic as all hell, but Tyler’s not sure if that was even _was_ a date.

“So,” Tyler says to Josh one Tuesday night. He’s doing the dishes and talking into his headphones, even though he knows that his headphones are inevitably going to get soaked. Maddy’s giving him weird looks from her spot at the counter, doing Pre-Calc homework. “Your friend Hayley invited me to her party on Saturday. And Jenna.”

“Party?” Maddy asks, Tyler ignores her.

He squeezes dishsoap onto a sponge and starts working on a dirty pan. “Yeah, Hayley! Red hair, right?”

Soapy suds, too hot water on his soft hands. “Well, she told me there’s gonna be a party. Maybe I–” He scrubs, and scrubs, flips the pan over, scrubs some more. “She said you would be– Haha, very funny, I don’t think– See, I told you!”

“Who are you talking to?” Maddy asks as Tyler rinses the pan. Hot water burns his hands but he keeps running his hands over it, getting all of the suds out. He rests the pan on the drying rack and he grabs a dirty plate. Tyler grimaces at the leftover food, walks over to the garbage can, and dumps out the contents. He looks up to Maddy, and he says. “A friend, idiot. Oh, not you, I’m talking to my sister.”

“Her name is Maddy,” Tyler says, bringing the plate back to the sink. “Uh… 16? Yeah. Anyway, what are, I mean, is it anyone’s birthday?”

“Tyler!” Maddy yells at him, the hot water runs out of the faucet, Tyler burns his hand, he runs the sponge over the fine china. “I was a loser– No, still a loser– Yes, I am. I’ve just, I’ve never been to a party that was… I’m in front of my sister.”

“What kind of party are you going to? A sex party?!” Maddy asks, eyes practically popping out of their sockets. She drops her pencil and leans in closer to the sink, as if she could hear who and what was going on the other line. Tyler points the sponge at her, “ _No_ . Wait, uh, no, that was for my sister, sorry. She said bring a change of clothes, J. A change of-- wait, is that nickname okay? Okay, she said bring a change of clothes, _J_. That’s… I told you I was a loser!”

“Oh, my God. You’re going to a sex party, aren’t you?! I’m gonna tell Mom!” Maddy shrieks, quickly scrambling out of her seat. Tyler drops the plate in the sink, and with wet hands, and soapy water all over the front of his shirt, he runs after her, “It’s not a sex party! NO, THAT WASN’T FOR YOU, THAT WAS FOR MY SISTER!”

* * *

I want to beat myself down the drain.

I want the soap that cleanses my body to scrub away at all of my skin,

until I’m just organs and bones and some useless brains.

I wish that my thoughts could wash away like blood.

Tint the shower floor, sure, but at least it’s gone.

 

Contained within this little fucking box,

with your body wash that smells like cinnamon,

and your pink razors and your bar soap, and your shampoo,

I feel so alone. I feel so alone. I feel so

Yeah, sorry, I’ll hurry up

 

* * *

“Hey,” Tyler says, ruffling a towel in his fluffy hair. “Can I tell you something?”

Zack, on the other bed in the room, looks up from his phone. He shrugs, watching as Tyler throws the towel on the floor and climbs into bed.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“If Mom and Dad ask, tell them that on Saturday, Jenna and I are going to a concert.”

Zack blinks. “Is this your way of telling me that you’re not?”

Tyler blinks back. “We’re, uh, going to a party.”

“Who’s party?”

“Uh, this guy. Well, this guy’s friend.”

“This guy?”

“Yeah, this guy.”

“Is he like… your boyfriend?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Will you tell them? I already told Maddy too, I had to... nevermind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dude.”

“I bribed her. But I don’t have to–”

“Nah, you don’t have to. Just have my back next time I have to go to a _concert_ , yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Can you turn off the lights? I’m fuckin’ tired.”

“Okay,” Tyler gets up, turns the lights off, and climbs back into bed. “Night.”

“Night.”

 

When I have no one.

When I am tired,

When I am hurt,

When I need someone,

When I need you,

I know you are there.

You, and your simple answers,

and your perfect dislike for lengthy and long conversations

that don’t mean anything.

 

* * *

“ _Can u tell ur friend that I cant find her house ? Lol ._ ”

“ **its suuuuuuuuper tiny. and its an apartment. above the verizon store. we have a movie on the projector outside** ”

“ _Hi this is Jenna. Above the verizon store?_ ”

“ **hi jenna. yeah above the verizon store. little door next to the big door** ”

“ _Hi Josh. Are we allowed to park in the Dunkin Donuts ax the street? Tyler wants 2 know.”_

“ **hey jenna. probably not but i would** ”

“ _OK. Tyler said he’s too lazy to try to find parking. He wants 2 know if you guys wnt munkins?”_

_“*Munkins”_

_“**Munchkins. Sorry”_

“ **yeah thatd be cool. not a lot of people here. only us & brendons boyfriend. hayls got way too excited abt meeting you guys and she literally forgot to invite everyone else.**”

“ _We brought a change of clothes, dude_.”

“ **seriously? i think that was a joke** ”

“ _Tyler again- what kind of “munkins” do you guys want ? Lol ._ ”

“ **NO jelly. rest is good. im biased towards sprinkled though haha** ”

“ _:) same ._ ”

* * *

He sees light reflecting off of silver-blue hair even before he crosses the damn street. It’s like the North Star, almost, if Tyler wants to get really biblical and weird about it. But in all honesty, it's 9 o’clock on a cold, windy Saturday night, and the last thought in Tyler’s mind is _Jesus._ But truly, Tyler feels like he could follow that hair through the dark.

All of Josh’s friends have joined him at this point. They’re leaning across the railing, the one parallel to the beam on the top that's covered in fairy lights, and Tyler recognizes all of them from Dyed Happy- the red, the blue and the brown.

“I’m coming down to unlock the door!” Josh yells to them, and then he darts out of sight. They reach the sidewalk, Hayley yells out to Jenna that her blue winter jacket, the puffy and kinda ugly one, is pretty, and by the time Jenna yells out a thank you, Tyler is staring into milk chocolate eyes. “You’re just in time,” Josh says, “Bella’s about to tell Edward that she knows he's a vampire.”

From up above, someone scoffs. “This is so stupid. We’re watching the worst one, Jacob isn't even hot yet.”

A guy pipes up, “Yeah, it's fuckin horrible, _that's_ why we’re watching it.”

Jenna’s heeled boots clank as Tyler’s sneakers squish up the staircase, and Josh swings the door to the apartment open when they reach.

It’s really _small._ Tyler thinks of his too-big house, 6 people in 4 bedrooms, 3 baths, a basement and an attic and a roof and a full kitchen and a beautiful living room with the piano, and he hears a snore coming from the couch/bed in the living room, and his thought process breaks.

Hayley’s apartment is small.

The person asleep on the couch, a guy with lots of facial hair, turns over on his side and mumbles a little. Josh grins and turns to Jenna and Tyler, saying “Don't mind Spencer, just be thankful that he's not having a wet dream. Because those do happen, it's _so_ weird. Oh, that's Brendon’s–” he points outside, where the guy with brown hair drinking from a bottle of beer is sitting, “–boyfriend, by the way.”

He darts around the room as he talks at a thousand miles a minute, “Here, uh, take these blankets, just the whole stack, the heat never works so it's not much warmer in here, plus it's stuffy, at least when we’re outside we can, like… uh, oh, um, we also have pizza, and cans of Coke, and beer if you want but I know you’re driving, and um, wow, sorry, I should have told you guys to wear comfy clothes, and–”

Tyler can feel Josh’s nervousness radiating off him. It reminds him of the warm, beating sun in the summer, when he's shirtless and wet from the pool water, and the sun’s heat burns like he's getting cooked. Like that, that's how Josh’s nervousness feels. So, Tyler interrupts his flow by just saying, “Josh, it's totally fine. Jen and I are cool, right–”

He turns to look at Jenna, but she's already outside, wrapped in a blanket, and she's quoting the scene with Hayley. The subtitles are off. Their voices are loud.

Ashley, the one with the tattoos and the blue hair and sharp eyeliner, and Brendon, the one with the brown hair and the sleeping boyfriend and the bottle of Heineken, look at them like they’re crazy.

“See?” Tyler asks, and Josh visibly relaxes–his shoulders slump back down and the smile on his face becomes less practiced and more freeing. “Yeah. Sorry. You wanna go sit?”

With the way that they’re sitting, Tyler just happens to melt into the warmth of Josh’s body. He leans his head against Josh’s sweater covered chest. He’s so hot, like a furnace, and Tyler feels like wet socks coming in from the snow. Josh’s arms wrap around him, Tyler kicks his legs out, Josh’s left leg hangs off the couch, just out of the comforter, the other leg securing Tyler in his place, but it feels less like he's trapped, and more like he's strapped in so that he doesn't fall out of a moving roller coaster.

Ashley just smirks at them as she shoves a powdered munchkin in her mouth. “S’cute.”

* * *

James presses down on Bella’s leg and everyone winces as it crunches. Bella gasps and writhes in pain, her face twisted up, and Hayley makes a small, worried sound.

“This part always makes me anxious,” she says, her voice has gone super sweet and her speech has slurred a little, thanks to the bottles of pink, pink wine coolers. She’s cuddling up near to Jenna. Tyler glares holes into her head, trying to get her to notice him, but she stays still, her hand stays constant on Hayley’s. “I… _know_ that Edward is coming. But jeez, can't he hurry up a little?”

Right about now, Brendon would make a comment about how he wishes his brain were being crushed just like Bella’s leg. But he's asleep, curled next to Spencer, inside. Tyler would feel bad for Ashley, having no one to sit with and kiss when she's bored. Josh’s lips linger on Tyler’s throat, but Ashley said that she would rather cuddle up with her dog, Jake—she said this during a scene that Jacob Black was in, and Hayley rolled her eyes and told her that she was ‘so fucking annoying’. Ashley threw a munchkin at her, and she laughed when it hit her square in the face. Tyler has to remember that they joke hate each other _a lot_ , otherwise these moments seem downright mean.

It’s not late–it's only 11, but it feels like 3 AM, when the world is quiet. Tyler takes a swing of Josh’s cold beer. “Edward’s...complicated.” He says, as Edward, on screen, refuses to let Bella turn into a vampire. He grabs at her wrist, sucks venom out of her veins. Hayley sighs happily, “I wish he was sucking on-” “Shut _uuuuup!”_

Tyler continues his thought. “I mean, imagine being in love with someone for, what, 3 months? But anyway, you’re in love. But you… don't want to be with her forever and turn her into a vampire?”

Josh pipes up– his voice rumbles in his chest and Tyler feels it against his back. “He loved her so much he didn't want her to be a monster like him. _Not_ picking sides… by the way.”

“Oh, how tragic.” Hayley says, her voice _dripping_ with sarcasm. “Bella will live forever with someone she loves. She’ll always be pretty and she won't rot and grow old. She’ll have all these awesome abilities, and all she has to do is drink animal blood every once in awhile. Boo hoo.”

Tyler shudders. “Growing old.”

Jenna lifts her head off of the chair cushion. “No? I can't wait to be… well, not _old_ … But being older, being with someone I love, raising kids…”

Tyler shrugs. “If I end up in a nursing home, though? I don't know.”

“Guys, I’m all for deep conversations, but let's have it after the movie.” Hayley suggests, with an edge to her voice- probably because Edward’s on the screen.

 

Old, and gray, and rotting.

Eating yogurt with dentures in.

Pasty pink walls, floral couches.

My hands are wrinkled, bony, fragile,

but I hold yours in mine anyways.

We walk with canes.

My lips are always chapped.

When we laugh, I wheeze.

When I look over to you through prescription glasses,

will you still have your blue hair?

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing romantic about the smell of cigarette smoke.

 

With cigarette smoke there's pain.

There’s the deep, aching coughs in the middle of the night,

You wake me up, and I can’t go back to sleep.

There’s the hospital visits that make my skin crawl, and

Steady _beep, beep, beeps_ that drive me out of my fucking mind.

 

With cigarette smoke there's disgust.

And addiction and brokenness and you’re promising us you’re going to try

And you do for a while...

...and then you don't.

The levee breaks, the smell masks everything you worked for.

 

Cigarette smoke is everything that _isn't_ romantic.

But I kiss, _Blue Blue Blue,_ and I smell that cancerous, romantic cigarette smoke in the air, coming from across the street.

I feel it filter into my veins and my chest hurts,

And I kiss harder.

 

* * *

The church kitchen is a weird place. They always say that the weirdest, eeriest placesare gas stations straight off of exits on the highway, parking lots in the dead of night, the dark hallways of an elementary school with all of the lights turned down low. But church kitchens are weird places. The coffee brews. The clock ticks. It’s cold. Tyler has such vivid memories of bleeding in the sink and cutting himself with knives when he didn't mean to, and he's so sure that there's, like, a _ghost,_ and–

“You should invite Josh next week. Christmas Eve mass.” Jenna says, breaking Tyler out of his trance–staring at the little droplets falling into the coffee pot. She’s by the fridge, checking for cream cheese for bagels during coffee hour.

“Maybe. I don't think he's a church person.” Tyler says, bringing his hands to rub at his eyes. He barely got sleep last night. They drove back around 2 and Tyler snuck back into his room, jerked off to memory of Josh’s lips on his, convinced himself that he wasn't good enough, then convinced himself that he _was_ good enough. It takes a lot of energy, this process.

“Yeah, but church is important to you.” Jenna says, pulling her head out of the fridge. “And I’m pretty sure it's common decency to invite people you make out with to things.” She smirks at him and his face flushes the color of the berries of the wreaths decorated on all of the doors.

“Well… yeah, we made out, but…”

Tyler’s just not sure if he can imagine _blue, blue, blue_ hair in the midst of the congregation as he autopilots gospel songs.

“Okay, fine,” Tyler says, feeling daring, “If you invite Hayley. Your little cuddle buddy.”

It comes off with a little hint of malice but Tyler doesn’t apologize for it. It’s not his fault that Jenna keeps things to herself, stuff that she would bother Tyler about.

Jenna grabs a mug out of a cabinet and she gives him a smug look as she leans across to grab the coffee pot. “I already did. All of them are working…” She boops Tyler on the nose, “Except your boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating!” Tyler says to her. But, he thinks, does he make out with people he doesn't date? Does he let people he doesn't date kiss him in cold, cigarette air, let them run their hands over his face, underneath his jacket, underneath his shirt, even when the cold, cold winter air hits his exposed skin? Does he think about people he's not dating the way he thinks of _Josh?_ Does Josh think of him? Does Josh kiss other people? Does Josh _fuck_ other people?

He tries to think about him like _that_ with a faceless person, his pearly white teeth biting into the crevice of this person’s neck–his huge hands running over someone else’s hip bones–but he can't even bring himself to imagine it.  

He grabs a mug, takes a sip of too-bitter and too-strong coffee. He misses Josh. “We never, like, clarified stuff. I don’t wanna look desperate. I don’t know.”

“You guys made out. We all were there to witness it.” Jenna says, point-blank, and Tyler takes another sip as if it would wash away the memory of Ashley and Jenna and Hayley leaning over the railing, glancing down, and wolf-whistling at them kissing. It was _supposed_ to be private, as private as kissing in the streets can be. “So… you won’t look desperate, Ty. You guys like each other. I feel like you can’t–like, it’s right _there_ , in front of your face. He _likes_ you.”

Jenna’s always the one who has to ram ideas and common sense into his head until he _gets_ it. It happened with all 2 of Tyler’s past relationships, this one shouldn’t be any different, but at least then Tyler could have said that he got it. But he still doesn’t get it, how someone like Josh, with the biggest smile and the prettiest eyes and the coolest music taste and the best coffee making skills, could like someone like him.

 

It’d be pretty cool, I think.

Having a mind that fucking worked.

That way I wouldn’t have to depend on every person in sight to explain everything to me.

That way I could figure things out for myself instead of resorting to things like hating myself.

‘It’s right there, in front of your face’ you say.

‘Tyler, you’re, like, blind’ you joke.

Okay, I see it now. Thanks for that. I guess.

 

* * *

Frosting covered brownies. Tyler kicks his legs in his booth as Josh tells him about his day. It feels weirdly domestic, like they’ve been at this for years instead of the better part of 3 weeks. Josh rips off a piece of Tyler’s brownie. “–and now I’m here, sitting with you.” Josh finishes, as he pops the piece in his mouth. “What’s up, how was your day?”

“Okay. Church was… church.” Tyler goes with, watching carefully for Josh’s reactions. But he looks pretty neutral and just hums. “Sounds fun. I haven’t been to church in like… years.”

“Why?” Tyler asks, genuinely curious, but he keeps his voice even. He knows people at church, even his parents, who would run their mouths if they heard something like that. Which Tyler doesn’t get because not everyone is Christian and sensible people like his parents should understand that.

A shrug from Josh. Another piece of Tyler’s brownie gets ripped off. Tyler pulls the brownie closer to himself and he gives Josh a playful glare.

“I don’t know. I just started got caught up in other stuff and started showing up less and less, and then… I just never went back, I guess?” Josh says, as he chews. “I mean, I don’t know. I think I believe in God. But then shitty stuff happens and it’s just hard to really believe in something that would make all of that stuff happen and accept it just because it’s all part of some plan. But that’s just me, I could be wrong, I mean–”

Tyler shakes his head. “No, no, I get it. Like… just believing in something that you have no proof of. Sometimes I just want a sign, or something.”

Josh nods. They sit in silence for a moment, before Tyler pushes the brownie closer to Josh. “Just kidding, you can take more. You _did_ make them.”

“With the help of Ashley. I gotta give credit where credit is due.” He smiles again and breaks the brownie in half, giving himself the smaller piece. “Anyway… sobering topic.”

Tyler’s made of sobering topics. Sobering topics spills out of his ears and out of his veins when they get sliced open, vibrate in his fingers when he plays the piano. He gives Josh a shrug. “Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to know cause… well, there’s this thing next week.”

Josh laughs. “Christmas?”

“Yeah, maybe you’ve heard of it?” He says, and Josh laughs again. “Anyways, yeah, Christmas is next week, and we usually have mass the evening before, and I mean, you don’t have to say yes, I know you’re probably with your family or your friends, but… I wanted to, y’know. Invite you. We’ll have cake and dinner afterwards, home by 10. Promise.”

“No family. And yeah, no, that sounds fun. I haven’t been in a while. Maybe things have changed.” He says, and Tyler shrugs. “Yeah, some things. We do human sacrifices now. And every other week we take turns drinking holy water. You’ll catch up fast.”

Josh brings a hand up to his forehead and Tyler laughs at his own joke, gasps that come straight from his belly, laughs that he’d be embarrassed of if he weren't with Josh.

“Dude. You _had_ me there for a second there.” “How?!”

* * *

The next week goes in a blur. There were no classes that week, finals were done and the semester was over but Tyler was in the library working on his own stuff. He was working, ringing up customers at the supermarket, running across town, buying gifts for everyone, hanging out with Josh, throwing his dirty clothes into washing machines in the laundromat as they talk about this _one thing_ that Brendon’s boyfriend did.  (One of) Tyler’s gifts to Josh was gas money and they drove on the highway just to drive, sped down the highway and screamed together to Grouplove, “ _She is my only one true love in the world CAUSE SHE’S MY FUCKING GIRL_!” He was in church, he was practicing the piano, he was puking words and words of poetry, he was up at night biting his fingernails, he was up at night listening to music that remind him more of love than of death.

Tyler drives his own car to church on Saturday night. Jenna’s with him in her modest green dress and her hair down.

“What if I don’t wear the right thing?” Josh asks on speaker-phone. “And, like, everyone stares at like I’m a total outsider.”

“One, new people always come for Christmas Eve Mass. It’s a thing.” Tyler says, and Jenna hums in agreement. “See, even Jenna agrees. It’s a thing.”

“Yeah, but do random churchgoers have bright blue hair and nose rings?” Josh asks—there's some shuffling, like he's searching through a closet. “I can't even fit into my dress pants.”

“You don't _have_ to come.” Tyler says, his voice airy, even though Tyler’s sort of been looking forward to this—Josh in dress up clothes, sitting with his siblings, joking around. Maybe Josh could sense how… _domestic_ things have become. The honeymoon phase is over and it’s only been 4 weeks. They come back home, go back to work.

“No, I want to. I _want_ to. I’ll– fuck, okay. I’ll roll up the pants. People do that at church, right?”

“Yeah,” Jenna says, her motherly and reassuring voice coming in like the violins in Pachelbel's Canon. “But just don't wear weed socks, cause everyone will see them.”

“That's oddly specific.” Josh says, and Tyler sighs. “We have a story.”

Josh hums. “There's always a story.”

They talk the whole way. Josh is taking the bus because Tyler and Jenna are helping set everything up before the service begins. When they say goodbye, Tyler says it in a voice that would make any bitter single person sick. “Bye, J. See you soon.”

He hangs up when he puts the car into park. He turns to Jenna and expects her to make fun of him, of the way that Tyler sounds like an idiot. Instead, she just says in a soft voice, “You guys are really sweet. I’m really happy for you.”

Tyler smiles wide—all crooked and white teeth. His eyes wrinkle up, and he ducks his head down so he stares into his lap. “Thanks.”

He lifts his head, looks up to her, and says through a breathless laugh, “Me too.”

 

You are the soft introduction.

I am the dramatic chorus.

You are the brilliant moon.

I am the people who look up to you.

‘She’s so beautiful’ they say,

‘I know’ I say back.

You are the girl in the green dress.

With the blonde hair and the bangs across your eyebrows.

And I love you like you’re the second song on the album.

 

* * *

Rooftops are usually reserved for _bad_ nights. Like, if Tyler could sit out on his roof and stare at the distance between where he was and where the sweet concrete was, it wouldn't look too bad after a while and he could headfirst dive and never have another thought again. It never works. Clearly. The windowsill looks really nice, the top of the roof makes him feel like a _king,_ a glorious King about to be overthrown.

Rooftops aren't romantic. Not in the way that cigarette smoke isn't romantic, though because Tyler doesn't want to kiss Josh right now.

“This is such an _awesome_ view.” Josh says and Tyler’s eyes snap from staring into black paved parking lots to muddy brown eyes. They’re standing in their winter jackets and hats and gloves, and the cold wind whooshes around them with such force that it feels like Tyler’s going to fly away.

“Oh. Yeah.” Tyler says, picking up one of the rocks underneath his feet. “Sometimes after service ends, we come up here, and we throw rocks down, and they look like fireworks when they hit the asphalt.”

He’s not really sure what possessed him to do something fucking stupid like this. But he's here now, with his not-boyfriend. He's full with hot dinner and coffee and he feels warm with his jacket and his hat and his gloves, but he's a light switch that gets flipped. Suddenly he feels like the coldest person in the world—wants to freeze everything around him so that he can be alone.

“Want to try?” Josh asks. Tyler shrugs. Josh leans down and grabs a rock. He takes Tyler over to the ledge and glances over to him.

“What? Just throw super hard.” Tyler says, staring directly past Josh’s shoulder.

“What's wrong? You have this, like, look on your face. Are you afraid of heights?” Josh asks, teasing, but Tyler nods, his eyes wide. “Y-yeah.”

The rock gets dropped over the ledge, and Tyler watches as red sparks comes off, flying into the air, getting whisked away. Josh’s hands are on his and they’re guided to the middle of the roof, right by the door that leads to the stairway. “Wait, but–” Josh begins to say, but Tyler shakes his head, “No, let me just, let me talk.”

He sniffles even though no tears have fallen yet. He can’t see his own face but he’s sure he looks pathetic.

“I thought it’d be romantic. A picture _fucking_ perfect m-moment and I’m so stupid.” He says, “I don't even know what the hell I’m doing, I invited you to- to church! You don't even believe in God. I _dragged_ you here, and you’re not even my boyfriend, and I hate roofs and I hate being cold, and I hate throwing rocks down, but that's us, right? We’re romantic like that, and we kiss in smoke and listen to happy music, and I barely even _do_ that, and we– All of my poems are you! Everything in my head is you, and– I sound crazy!”

Tyler wrings his hands together and he says, “This is who I am. I think in poetry and I want to die a lot of the time. Even when things are good. Even when...when you were with me that night at Hayley’s, it's always in the back of my mind, and– you should just save yourself the trouble.”

Josh shakes his head. “I don't care about– no, I care about that stuff. I care about that stuff so much, but I don't care in the way that it's gonna affect how I think of you, okay? You’re, like, my _boyfriend_ , I don't–”

“I'm your boyfriend?” Tyler asks, and Josh pulls him a little closer, gloved fingers on gloved fingers. “Yeah. If you’ll have me. I don't see other people.”

“Yeah. Just... _yeah_ , but that's not the point. The point is that you will be dating—you _are_ dating someone–”

“Who I _like_ despite what he thinks.” Josh says, exasperated. “I like you. I like you, Tyler, I don't care about sitting on roofs and whatever the fuck. I care about being with you, even if it's just in my car and listening to music. I don't care. I just wanna, like, be with you. You’re enough for me.”

They stare at each other in the dark. Tyler’s gloved hands move to Josh’s face, running over the barely there stubble over his cheeks. He cups his face, and they kiss.

“Okay,” Tyler says, his voice all soft and broken, because he looks into Josh’s eyes, sees the strand of _blue, blue, blue_ that falls over his face, and knows that Josh is his boyfriend. “Let's get off this stupid roof.” Josh says, pulling Tyler’s hands off his face gently.

They don't watch the stars on the roof—they watch the stars in Tyler’s car. “ _Can you feel me? Can you feel me? Only when my hands have fallen asleep. Can you steal me?”,_ and they sit side by side. Tyler’s hands are cold in Josh’s. He looks over, Josh looks back, and Tyler says, “Do you want to hear a poem?”

Josh turns the volume down, and he nods.

“Okay… it's not going to be good, just–”

“Is it your poetry?” Josh asks, interrupting him, and Tyler nods.

“Then, I don't care if it's good or not.” Josh gives him a small smile, Tyler gives him a small sigh, and then he says, finally setting the words that have been swimming around in his head free.

 

Blue is far from my favorite color.

Blue is depression, the dusty water on the bedside table that I drink with my pills.

Blue is vast and open oceans, loneliness in it's purest form, and I don't want to be alone.

It's beautiful, and bursting with life underneath the surface, but I'm up here.

And all I see is blue.

And blue.

And blue.

Blue is icy, I slip over it and my hands bleed,

it's cold and I hate the cold.

Blue should be the ugliest color in the world.

 

But blue is also calm.

And blue is you.

You, and your warm hands, and

you, and your words that made me feel like the most loved person in the world.

Blue is your hair, and blue is the sky without any of the clouds masking the sun.

Blue is your hair, and blue is the color of Neptune.

Blue is water, and you're raining diamonds.

If feeling blue is feeling the way that you make me feel,

like diamonds on Neptune, like the middle of the oceans,

the colorful fish and the seaweed and the great, giant whales,

the way that you kiss me like we're never gonna meet again,

the first sip of fresh, icy ice cold water on a hot day,

then I want to feel forever blue.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ok if i said that i didn't want to post this i'd be lying cause i love posting my fanfics. but i've never really written poetry and i know that this wasn't exactly good poetry, but it was something fun to experiment with i guess? anyways i hope you guys liked this! there are a million things i don't like about this, the fact that it doesn't really go anywhere, the fact that tyler just seems so off (tyler's the hardest person to write for me by a landslide like Who Is He), etc. but there are a lot of things i love about this too. so i hope you guys liked it & pls leave a comment if you did! 
> 
> ALSO: suuuuuuuper inspired by "slowtown" by the (GRAMMY AWARD WINNING!) ugly boys, "welcome to your life" and "traumatized" by grouplove, "might be" by anderson .paak, and "september" by earth, wind & fire. do u remember the 21st night of september???? anyways, those are alllll awesome so if you liked this, you'd probably like that. idk. listen if u want!


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